The Cutting Chain
by frankiewode
Summary: When Downton decides to hire a new footman, Thomas isn't best pleased or impressed with the choice. His eyes are too blue. Too disgustingly blue.


The Cutting Chain

**A/N:** So this has been unfinished for months. oops. I ship them. I really, really do. So. much. tension. YOU COULD CUT THE AIR WITH A KNIFE.  
>But this chapter isn't really a romance. Just how they first met.<p>

_Disclaimer: No one can OWN Rob-James Collier. Don't be ridiculous..._

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><p>"So I just take it up then, do I?"<p>

The boy smiled at him nervously, a mass of blonde curls reflected in the silver platter he carried. He can't have been more than fourteen or fifteen years old with a soft yellow fuzz just starting to grow on his upper lip. He was tall for his age... though still a few inches short of Thomas.

One hand was curled cautiously against his back and his eyes were bearing into him expectantly. Thomas held his tongue for a moment and took it in. His eyes... huge and owl-like... young eyes. As light a blue as he'd ever seen. The innocence emanating from this boy irritated him already.

"Of course you take it up. Don't be stupid." He gestured wildly at the blonde boy's platter. "And don't trip up neither. I won't be helping you up."

The boy nodded furiously and the platter almost toppled with the force of it.

"Careful!" Thomas hissed, and darted out to settle him. He regretted it immediately as the boy's nose dug into his cheek. "Do that again and I'll make sure Carson throws you back to the cows on your _bloody_ farm." He shoved him back as aggressively as he could without upsetting the spread. Every moment only served to increase his anger. Mama had always said he was far too hot-headed for the likes of domestic employment. But he'd managed so far,_ two years_ so far, and there was no bloody way he'd allow this little blonde nuisance to make a mess of it.

Red mashed with gold as the boys cheeks puffed up in embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry... I'll do better. I promise." He trailed off and those big blue eyes of his stuck to the floor.  
>"See that you do then."<br>_How_ had this boy managed to secure employment to an _Earl_. There were plenty of boys closer to his own age, healthy and ripe for work. Thomas could only imagine that this boy had looked more _manageable_. So much for fair treatment. So much for rights.

A familiar clatter of skirts against pans gave him cause to groan. "Oh, hello again!" Of course. She never strayed too far from her kitchen. "How are you settling in? ... Well come on then! You don't have to be scared! Oh?" The boy stayed quiet but she saw the quick glance he spared to frown at Thomas.  
>Oh, don't listen to the boy, dear. Pay him no mind. Thomas likes to think he runs the place but it's Mr Carson you'll be heeding." She slapped a wooden spoon on the table as she paused. "He hasn't the right. He's only a footman himself. He was just like you a year or two ago."<p>

Thomas snapped around and sent her a glare. "I was _not_."

"Well then, your memory is not as sharp as mine." She had a soft smile on her face, as if she was amused, as if he were only a child. Rage flamed through him and he brought his hand down to crash against the boy's platter. Mrs Patmore's food made a loud splat as it hit the hard oak-wood floor and she accompanied it with a wail.

"Oh! You arrogant, insolent boy! Get out of this kitchen. I won't deal with you now. The _insolence_!"

Thomas left them amongst the mess, still steaming. That had been a promise easily broken. His job was gone then. His mother had been right all along.  
>That boy had been his death. It was all <em>his<em> fault. _He_ had caused it. If he hadn't stood there with those stupid _eyes_ those _repulsive_ blue eyes none of this would have happened. If Mrs Patmore could only accord him the respect he knew he bloody well deserved. If that _boy_ had known to carry a platter properly... And the bloody incompetence had cost him his job.

He waited up in his room for the dismissal but night came and went and not one soul appeared to reprimand him. Light was dawning just as he heard a soft knock at his door.

He opened it rather wearily and there was the blonde boy again, his wide curls tucked behind his ears. "Carson says you're late, and you're to make it up later..." He swallowed his tongue as he took in Thomas's expression. "Y-You're to go down now, he says."The boy turned awkwardly to go just as Thomas grabbed him by the arm.

"Is this some sort of joke? D'you think this is funny?"

"No, no, sir... _Thomas_ I meant. Honest. He wants to see you down now." Thomas snarled as his name curled its way around the boy's mouth.

"And you're sure there was nothing else." His fingers were gripping at his arm now, determining the ease of dominance he found there. But when the boy looked down he let go at once.

"No, nothing... I-I didn't tell him." Those blue eyes strayed from him again as the boy averted his gaze. "Me and Mrs Patmore, we cleaned it up and replaced it. Nothing was damaged. I wasn't late." Maybe that boy did have some competence after all... But it only turned him from a target to a threat.

"Impressive. I bet Mr Carson was pleased with you." He was circling him now, like a vulture and his innocent prey. This boy was getting no pity from him.

"I asked Mrs Patmore not to say anything, see. You can keep your job." The blue eyes appeared again and they were so close it almost threw Thomas off balance.

"I suppose you expect me to thank you." A smirk crawled onto the lower bite of his lip. "You think that was such a great favour you did me? Grow up, you idiot boy. You've just given yourself a nightmare. I can't stand competition."

Maddeningly the boy only smiled. "Oh, I won't stand in your way. I know I'm not a match for you."

"No. At least you're not completely senseless." He pushed passed him into the hallway and made for the stairs.

"You can call me William by the way. I-It's my name."

Thomas turned back just before reaching the first step. "I know." He said. "But it's not what I'll choose to call you."

The idiot boy could only last a few weeks at the most. Carson couldn't stand incompetence and William would surely crack. Boys like him weren't made of the strong stuff. Innocence and good-will would get him no-where this side of the job-market. And soon he wouldn't have to endure those owl-like eyes bearing into him. That was the part he hated most; the twisted feeling at the trench of his gut. The way his thoughts would collide with one-another and become nonsensical. He hated it. The boy made him sick.

But with any luck he would soon be gone.

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><p><strong>AN:** This will probably be in three parts, with the next chapter being about Daisy starting work. idk. If I even do another one.  
>You may all think I'm crazy. But I see eye-sex where there is none, bro.<p> 


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